


Sweet Tooth

by beetle



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Inception AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 02:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this Inception prompt: "Robert is a chocolatier and Eames comes in every day to buy a box of chocolates. One day he buys one for Robert."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Tooth

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I played with Nolan's characters and got them all covered in chocolate . . . my bad. . . .

"Hullo."  
  
Robert looks up and smiles--a real one, not his professional one. "Good morning, Mr. Eames! How are you today?"  
  
Eames sighs melodramatically. "Bereft. Absolutely bereft."  
  
"Ah . . . chocolates still not working?" Robert begins folding a  _Fischer Chocolatiers_  box to fill with Eames's usual (chocolate bon-bons with a creamy strawberry filling).  
  
"Still not working," Eames confirms, leaning on the counter. "Box after box after box, and he still doesn't seem to know I exist."  
  
"Hmm." Robert grabs the scoop. "A pound, as usual?" When Eames nods, Robert scoops out a pound to the ounce with years of practice. "Well, if the chocolates aren't working, you may want to try something else--not that I'm eager to lose one of my best customers, but . . . I do like to see my customers happy."  
  
Eames watches Robert arrange chocolates in the box, pouting a bit. He has the most sinful lips Robert has ever seen, and it never does to look at them for too long, lest he actually  _say so_  aloud.  
  
"So, what do  _you_  think I should try?" Eames asks, stealing a chocolate from the box before Robert can close it up. He pops it into that sinful mouth, and Robert rolls his eyes replacing the chocolate with another from the small bin.  
  
"Have you tried just telling him how you feel?" Robert ties a ribbon around the box and hands it to Eames, who passes Robert two twenties. "I mean, it may not be as subtle as you'd like, but sometimes, a guy needs to be hit over the head."  
  
"I suppose so," Eames allows, smiling a bit. When Robert hands him his change, Eames hands him back the box of chocolates. Robert frowns.  
  
"Is there something wrong--did you change your mind?" he asks coding the register open and ready to refund. But Eames shakes his head.  
  
"No, of course not. Just consider this me hitting you over the head." Eames leans in a little--close enough for Robert to smell his cologne, something with hints of sandalwood. "I can't stop thinking about you, and I'd like very much to take you out."  
  
Gaping, Robert looks down at the chocolates--which happen to be his favorite, and initially recommended to Eames on the strength of that--then back up at Eames. "I'm afraid I don't understand."  
  
"Darling--why do you think I've been buying chocolates here every day for the past two months?"  
  
Robert opens his mouth, then closes it. "But you were buying them for some oblivious guy you wanted to--to notice you," he finishes lamely, and Eames quirks an eyebrow.  
  
"And after two months, I was getting a bit desperate. He really was  _quite_  oblivious."  
  
Robert blushes. "Mr. Eames--"  
  
"Please, call me Oliver."  
  
"Oliver--"  
  
"And say you'll allow me the pleasure of taking you to dinner?"  
  
Still blushing, Robert looks away from Eames's hopeful eyes, and down at the chocolates. "I don't date my customers, Mr. Eames."  
  
"Then consider this the last box of chocolates I buy, here." Eames says smoothly. "Though I have grown fond of the selection."  
  
Robert smiles a little, tapping his fingers on the box. "I. . . ."  
  
"Have a boyfriend?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Are straight?"  
  
Robert snorts.  
  
"Then you're not attracted to me?" This is worth an outright laugh, and Eames grins. "So say yes, darling. You won't regret it."  
  
"I . . . have other customers, Mr. Eames," Robert says, only for Eames's grin to falter. He glances at the line of people behind him, some amused, some disapproving, and clears his throat.  
  
"Right, then." He grins again, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Okay, I suppose I'll leave you to it, then."  
  
"Wait! Oliver!" Robert calls as Eames turns to walk away. When Eames looks back, Robert grabs a pen from next to the cash register and quickly scribbles  _5284910_  on the top of Eames's chocolates. Then he hands the box back to Eames, who looks down at the numbers and back up at Robert, puzzled.  
  
"My cell number," Robert says, blushing again. "I'm usually home by ten-thirty."  
  
Now that grin is back out in force, like the sun coming out from behind clouds. "I'll keep that in mind."  
  
"Good." Robert nods at the customer behind Eames, an elderly woman with a list as long as her arm and an indulgent smile. Eames backs away from the counter with his chocolates, still grinning, his gaze as warm as sunshine on Robert's face. "How may I help you today, ma'am?"


End file.
